Creative Shame

Neglecting the presence of choiceless
pain, I became singular and I said
I would not allow the life
slip through my fingers.

Looking inside, beneath the rags
of awakening, makes you to rebel
against the decadent forgiveness.
Belief in dying was a reversed nightmare.

Till the arteries explode in the limbs.
A robot kindles the hope to walk
without a brain and I grieve for the
death of a nightingale in the woods.

I will knead the invisible universe,
roll it to the stone wall of conscience.
Age will undo the million dreams
behind the creative shame.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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